


Navigation of the Cosmos and Human Affairs

by Lionswaps (Pyropesy)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Black Paladin Keith (Voltron), Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 02, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, a fair amount of everyone angst tbh, but also a lot of team bonding and fluff down the line, written before s3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyropesy/pseuds/Lionswaps
Summary: The contemplation of celestial things will make a man both speak and think more sublimely and magnificently when he descends to human affairs.— Marcus Tullius Cicero, c. 30 BCEAs Keith struggles with his new role as Black Paladin after Shiro's disappearance, he's forced to realise that the distance between himself and his teammates is a lot wider than he'd first thought. How to go about making friends after a lifetime of keeping people at arm's length?Everyone is hurting, but that doesn't mean they're not ready to offer a helping hand.They're a team, after all.





	Navigation of the Cosmos and Human Affairs

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old work... very outdated, conceived and planned out before s3 had even aired, so please disregard canon events. T'was actually the very first fanfic I'd ever written, haha.  
> It feels a little odd posting it now, when we're 4 seasons down the line and it's largely lost relevance, but we can never have enough keith-centric gen in the world I guess.  
> The original plan for the first chapter was at least twice as long as this, but it's been so long since I posted any fic that I just wanted to put something out there, and this was sitting around gathering dust, so...
> 
> Enjoy! Or don't, your call.

_The contemplation of celestial things will make a man both speak and think more sublimely and magnificently when he descends to human affairs._

**— Marcus Tullius Cicero, c. 30 BCE**

 

Keith flew into the Black Lion’s hangar with gritted teeth and a headache pounding at his temples. The coms were switched off; he was too strung out to deal with the chattering of his teammates. He didn’t think anyone could take him snapping at them any more than he already had this morning.

Black’s engines were the only sound in the cockpit as he stewed in exhausted irritation, and even that grated against his eardrums. He brought her down to a jarring, clumsy landing, the impact resounding throughout the hangar in a lingering tremor. Keith wasn’t sure how much of the rough flying was due to his inexperience piloting the larger lion, and how much was because of the frustration simmering hotly under his skin.

Training had gone badly. Again.

They’d flown above the flat rocky plateaus and around mountain ranges on this uninhabited planet for hours. Individually, each Paladin was making progress; Lance was more in control of Red, having adapted to her faster speed. Allura, too, was becoming more confident piloting Blue, no longer lagging behind the others with the hesitation she had started off with.

But every time Keith had tried to steer them all into formation, tried to pull the team together into one unit, they fell apart. Under his flailing attempts at leadership, the Paladins were an uncoordinated mess.

They hadn’t been able to form Voltron in weeks.

Keith powers down the Black Lion, the noise filtering away and lights blinking off. His ears ring in the sudden silence. He breathes hard through his nose and fights the urge to throw his helmet at the cockpit wall in sheer frustration.

 _Patience yields focus,_ he thinks, and bites his lip. That phrase hasn’t been as comforting, as of late; it’s a reminder of who he’s lost. A reminder of all he isn’t.

He pries his white-knuckled hands off the controls. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Methodically, he releases the tension in his body, muscle by muscle, starting with his shoulders and ending with his calves. He repeats the process a few times over, forcing himself to relax.

Briefly, he feels Red in his mind, a soothing purr at the edge of his senses. It’s faint, now that she’s bonded with Lance; distanced. Still, he’s grateful for the lingering connection. Keith doesn’t think he could take it if he’d lost Red, too.

He misses her. Black doesn’t talk to him, much. Keith isn’t sure if he wants her to.

He can’t shake the frustration festering inside him completely. It feels an impossible task to clear his head, as of late. The most he can do is pretend, at least in the face of his team. When he feels composure return to him enough that his jaw loosens and his breath sounds steady, Keith stands from Black’s pilot seat and makes his way out of her cockpit.

Time to face the music.

As he walks down Black’s ramp, he sees the others all gathered around the entrance to her hangar, talking in hushed voices. When they notice him approaching, they quickly stop talking and turn to meet him. Keith immediately feels his shoulders lock up again under their attention.

 _So much for relaxing,_ he thinks to himself, dry. He pulls his helmet off and instantly wishes he hadn’t; it makes it harder to avoid meeting their eyes.

“Good job out there,” he forces out when he’s a short distance away, and suppresses a wince. The praise was so generic, so _unfounded,_ it’s obvious he’s just acting a part. He wasn’t made for this.

Of course, they pick up on this straight away. There’s some awkward shuffling from Pidge as she combs her fingers through tangled helmet hair. Allura looks pained, pursing her lips. Lance is outright glaring at him, cold and accusing.

Lance has been doing that a lot, lately.

Hunk, tactful as always, takes it a step further.

“Uh, were you paying attention to the same training session as I was? ‘Cos like, no offense man, but we were _kind of_ a disaster!” He says, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He’s hedging around the real issue here, playing by the silent rules they’d all agreed on to _not_ talk about it out loud.

Still, Keith feels prickly and defensive; it’s a feeling he’s been forcing down a lot recently, at even the slightest hint of accusation sent his way. It’s not like Hunk’s wrong, after all. But even privately, Keith isn’t about to pretend that their fumbling is anyone’s fault but his own.

At least Hunk looks apologetic for dragging Keith’s complete failure to do his job into the spotlight. 

“We just need more practice. Lance and Allura have already come a long way in just two weeks.” Keith turns to address Allura, tries for an encouraging smile. It feels brittle on his face. “Both of you were flying really well today.”

He can’t quite manage to direct the same praise at Lance. Out of all of them, the new Red Paladin saw through Keith’s façade with the most ease. It would be an insult to both of them.

And by Lance’s quiet scoff at his comment, it seemed like he agreed.

“That’s all well and good,” Pidge chimes in, nervously fiddling with the glasses she’s just put back on. “But we still can’t form Voltron. What are we going to do if the Galra make a retaliation?”

“Yeah, they won’t be out of commission forever,” Hunk again. He splays his hands out in gesture as he continues. “We have no idea what state the Empire’s in! And Coran still has a while to go on the Castle’s repairs.”

“I _know-,”_ he snaps. Catches himself. Takes a steadying breath, and unclenches his fists. “I know,” he repeats, more agreeable. “We just- we’ll get there. We just need a little more time.” He almost sounds like he believes it. _Almost._

Lance steps forward, eyes narrowed and voice sharp. “We don’t _have_ time.”

“Lance…” Hunk’s steadying hand falls on his friend’s shoulder. Keith wants to fire off a comeback, but he has nothing to defend himself with. He doesn’t need to be good at social cues to read just how uncomfortable everyone is getting. None of them want to address this directly.

Not to Keith’s face.

“Paladins, please,” Allura cuts in before things can escalate. They all immediately give her their attention. Keith admires that she commands it so easily, even now that she’s dressed in the same uniform as them all. He doesn’t understand why she’s not the one in his position.

Shiro should have chosen Allura. She’d have been so much better at this.

She could have easily done what Keith is so spectacularly failing at.

Allura levels him with a sympathetic gaze, steps forward and puts a dainty hand on his shoulder. It’s meant as a gesture of comfort, of solidarity. It weighs down on him like the burden of all his inadequacies, like the task of leadership he’s finding himself so thoroughly unfit for.

“Keith,” she says. “I know we’ve all needed adjustment to this… arrangement. And we’ve made progress, yes,” he breaks eye contact with her, his gaze dropping to the floor. Avoidant. Cowardly. “But without Voltron, the oncoming battles will be near impossible. Perhaps…” she squeezes his shoulder gently. He fights the urge to tear away from her touch, his skin prickling uncomfortably, his whole body hot and coiled tight. Keith wants to run from what he knows is coming.

He doesn’t want to hear it, but interrupting her or changing the subject would feel too much like a confession.

“Perhaps it’s time you tried bonding with the Black Lion again.”

His stomach lurches

Black looms behind him, he can feel her towering over him; larger than life. Larger than Keith.

He's lost in her shadow.

For a brief moment, he feels the lion nudge at his mind. He flinches sharply from Black's presence, recoils. It isn’t until he looks up at Allura’s startled face, lined with soft hurt, that he realises he had physically pulled away from her, too.

There’s silence. Keith looks to the floor, but can still feel the others’ gazes, watching him with shocked concern.

He swallows thickly.

‘I…,’ Keith winces as his voice comes out strangled. He clears his throat, tries again. ‘Look, I _know,_ okay? I know we need Voltron. Believe me, I’m _trying.’_

Lance laughs, sudden and harsh. ‘Are you? Because funnily enough, to me it looks a lot like you’re not trying at all.’

Pidge slaps his arm and mutters, ‘Lance, cut it out!’ But it’s too late, his words set off a fire in Keith’s chest. Keith latches onto it, desperate for anything.

‘Why don’t you back off and focus on your own lion,’ he spits back. This is good. Anger is familiar, easy. He knows how to navigate this. He knows how to argue with Lance.

Except apparently, he doesn’t. Not like this. Because Lance’s next words leave him reeling.

‘I _am_ ,’ the taller boy takes another step towards him, just as incensed as Keith is feeling. ‘I have been! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Allura and I are doing fine. You’re the only one who still has hang-ups here.’ He jabs Keith once in the chest with a pointer finger, harsh and direct. It feels like a knife, leaving something twisted behind Keith’s ribcage.

‘Shiro left you in charge, and now you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to do your damn job!’

And that hurts, has him stumbling back a step, because it’s _true_. He’s letting Shiro down. He’s letting _everyone_ down.

But he still has his pride, and even when Lance is _right,_ Keith refuses to lay down and let him talk to him like this. He still deserves the decency of  _respect._

‘ _Excuse_ me?’ and Keith barely recognises his own voice, thick with defensive vitriol; a desperate, choking thing forced through half-gritted teeth.

Allura puts a stop to it.

‘That is _enough,’_ she says, forcefully stepping between them and prying them apart with a hand on each of their chests. ‘Both of you need to cool down. _Now.’_ Her sharp tone allows no argument, cutting through the haze of anger the both of them had been lost in.

Lance scoffs again and turns around with his clenched hands on his hips, shoulders tight. Hunk’s hand is on his upper back, soothing.

No one steps forward to do the same for Keith. Shiro would have, were he here. Keith hasn’t let anyone else in that far. Somehow, without him fully realising it, it's been made clear in the past that no one is allowed close when he’s this angry. Only when it’s late at night and he’s alone does he allow himself to regret putting those particular walls up.

He takes another deep breath. The air in the hangar still feels too hot. The distance he’s forced between himself and the others is a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. Especially not without Shiro’s guidance.

Lance’s words ring in the silence.

Hunk breaks the tension with a level voice. ‘I think we _all_ need to cool down a bit. We’re long overdue for a break.’ He smiles tentatively in a way that has Keith glancing away. ‘How about we take the night off?’

‘What?!’ Keith demands, all composure he’d just regained draining out of him once again. ‘We can’t take a break! You all _just said_ we can’t afford to waste any more time!’

‘Keith, we can always come straight back to training tomorrow,’ Pidge chips in, ever the voice of reason. ‘But we’ve been doing this non-stop for over two weeks now. A night off would be great for all of us!’

‘I agree,’ Allura says. ‘As pressed as we are for time, we’re not going to achieve anything when we’re this frazzled. It’s just one night.’

Lance is still deliberately angled away from him, but the rest are shooting Keith hopeful smiles. He feels desperate to keep trying, despite knowing that the way he’s going they’re never going to be able to form Voltron. They have to make _some_ kind of progress soon.

He doesn’t even know what he’s hoping for, anymore.

Besides, he can hardly say no to them. He knows he’s not the only one feeling the bone-deep exhaustion. He may be the source of the frustration, but he’s certainly not the only one feeling it.

‘Fine. Do what you want,’ he bites out. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he doesn’t bother amending it. He sees Lance’s hands clench just a tiny bit tighter.

Everyone else seems to release a breath of relief, a string of tension being cut. Hunk claps his hands together excitedly.

‘We can have a movie night!’ He says with a grin. ‘I’ll make us some snacks, we can sit back, relax. Have a big sleepover in the lounge!’

Lance finally seems to relax in the presence of his best friend’s excitement. ‘Sounds great, Hunk,’ he chuckles. ‘Ooh, you can whip out the recipe for that weird space popcorn!’

‘It’s about time we did something altogether like this,’ Allura voices her excitement, too. Her eyes are sparkling a little, and it almost pulls a smile out of Keith to see her enjoying being part of the group instead of lingering on the outskirts, for once. ‘The ties of friendship between Paladins is just as important as the bond between individual pilots and their lions. Keith, you’ll join us, won’t you?’

And suddenly they’re all rounding on him expectantly, still grinning. He’s stunned for a moment, unable to answer straight away.

It’s not that he didn’t expect to be included. This is his team, and this isn’t the first time they’ve tried to rope him into taking time off since Shiro-

Since Shiro…

He imagines himself being a part of the group. Properly, for once. Not just standing near them, talking with them, staying behind boundaries he set for himself years ago when it came to dealing with other people.

He thinks about relaxing around them. Joking and laughing, and letting himself have _fun._ He thinks about letting down his walls. Getting to know them. Letting them know him.

It sounds nice.

It sounds like a pipe dream.

Keith knows he’s overthinking this; it’s just a _movie night_. But there are parts of himself, insecurities and fears lingering from his past that he’s never quite shaken off. He doesn’t know how to act around others. He doesn’t know if they’ll like who he is, behind the cold exterior and the short fuse. He knows he can be... difficult-

_hotheaded, selfish, angry, cold, cold, cold-_

He just.

He doesn’t want to deal with that, right now. Maybe not ever.

And then there was Shiro… Shiro, who was missing, and who needs Keith’s help. Shiro, who was Keith’s best friend and the closest thing he had to a family.

Shiro, who Keith felt so, so, _so_ lost without.

And suddenly he can’t stomach the thought of a _sleepover_ of all things, when Shiro is out there, desperately waiting to be found. It seems a frivolous idea, heedless of greater priorities.

Keith refuses to let himself waste time watching movies and goofing around when Shiro needs him. When they all desperately need Shiro back to the fill the gaping void on the team he’d left behind.

Keith refuses to be that selfish.

So, he bites out a curt, ‘I don’t have time to watch films,’ and turns on his heel to walk away before he can see their disappointed expressions. ‘I’ll be in the bridge if there’s an emergency,’ he throws over his shoulder, forcing his voice to be steady and keeping his pace brisk.

‘What? Wait, no,’ he hears Hunk call out after him. ‘Keith-‘

‘Oh, let him go, Hunk,’ Lance says, just loud enough to still be heard over the distance Keith is still putting between them. ‘If he wants to go hole himself up alone somewhere, then I say good riddance.’

Something tightens in Keith’s chest. He scowls, his throat burning.

The last thing he hears is Pidge’s voice, faint but still decipherable. She’s all worn out exasperation and sadness as she replies, ‘you say that as if you’re not just as worried as the rest of us.’

*

 

When Keith was a lot younger, his Dad had taken him out to the sand dunes and taught him how to fly his first hoverbike. The vast desert landscape right outside their front door, undisturbed and empty, made for the perfect training grounds. Keith could go as fast and as far as he wanted, with very few obstacles or change in terrain to stop him.

The first few times they did this went without incident. His Dad rode on the bike behind him at first, his calloused hands alongside Keith’s tiny ones on the handle bars and helping him steer. It wasn’t long, though, before Keith was able to ride solo. He took to it naturally, and he would race around the desert with the wind rushing in his ears, and a giddy excitement bubbling in his chest that he would carry with him for years every time he flew.

Those days were some of Keith’s best memories of his childhood; when he’d race loops around his Father’s grinning figure, his bike spraying sand in its wake, before finally pulling up, laughing, his face ruddy and hair windswept and tears stinging his eyes from the _speed_ of it all. His Dad would grin and ruffle his hair, and they’d ride back home together. The heat from the sun-warmed metal and the vibration of the engine underneath his grip on the handles made Keith feel _alive._

Those first times he’d ridden a bike, it had awakened something inside him that had been laying dormant and in wait. Some intrinsic part of him that had always been there, always destined to steer him towards the sky.

But there was one day that hadn’t been nearly as pleasant.               

He had hit the thrusters too hard at one point, accelerated too fast and panicked. He slammed on the brakes just as he crested the top of a small dune, and the hoverbike lurched violently forward like a bucking horse and flung him off.

Suddenly, there had been nothing supporting his weight. The ground was rushing up to meet him and he could only gasp desperately as his stomach dropped. The safety of the bike, the surety of his control, had been violently pulled out from underneath him.

It hadn’t deterred him in the long-run, of course. He had spent the day too shaken and bruised to try again, but the very next morning he was back on the bike and driving with just as much confidence as before. 

Keith wouldn’t be Keith if he had given up that easily.

But that feeling, that sudden drop, that abrupt and complete loss of control and safety, was a feeling that settled itself subtly in his mind for years afterwards, a cautionary tale of sorts.

It was a feeling that he was reminded of with devastating clarity when he had run into the Black Lion’s cockpit to find it empty.  

Keith had _felt_ something was wrong. He had run towards Black, the others hot on his heels, panic curdling in his stomach. Urgent thoughts of _Shiro’s hurt,_ and _get him to the pods_ raced through his mind. There was a string of desperation pulling taut in Keith’s chest, straining against his lungs with every panting breath, every too-slow fall of his feet. He called out Shiro’s name. There was no response.

All the while there was an underlying, pulsing beat of desperation pumping in his veins, a thrumming of old wounds whispering _nothing lasts, nothing lasts, nothing lasts._

But instead, when they had crashed through the Black Lion’s cockpit to find nothing there. No injuries to patch up. No one to help or heal.

Nothing.

The shock left him paralysed for a small eternity. Keith’s stomach plummeted.

He was falling. 

It felt like the floor had disappeared from under him. He gripped the back of Shiro’s chair, trying to remember how to breathe, how to keep standing. The others started talking behind him in hurried tones. He couldn’t hear them over the ringing in his ears. He stared at the empty chair.

_Shiro’s gone…_

Keith tasted bile in his throat and blood on his tongue, biting down. He let himself, for a single moment, to feel the crushing weight of how _unfair_ the universe was.

_Shiro’s gone **again.**_

He came back to himself slowly, in stages…

There was a hand on his shoulder, he registered with sluggish senses. He turned his head slowly, still gripping the chair with white knuckles. Lance was looking at him, saying something. Saying Keith’s name? Keith stared at his mouth as it moved, but he couldn’t-

He couldn’t…

_Shiro. Where’s Shiro._

Keith’s mind was slowly catching back up, awareness trickling back to him like molasses. Lance looked concerned, he realised through the daze. His eyes were wet.

Maybe his own were, too? Keith couldn’t tell- the world blurred at the edges, drifting in and out of focus.

“Hey, Mullet,” Lance said, his voice the gentlest Keith had ever heard it. “You with me yet?”

“What?” Keith replied, dumbly. He was lost in a haze; a single, incessant thought echoed in his mind, gaining volume and urgency as it doubled over itself again and again.

_Shiro, Shiro, Shiro._

Keith still felt like he was suspended in the air, mid-fall. Like the ground was seconds away from smashing into him. Maybe that would have been true, if it weren’t for Lance’s hand supporting him. Vaguely, he registered that they were the only two left in the cockpit. He hadn’t even noticed the others leave.

Lance said something else. Keith didn’t hear him.

He had to-

_He needed to-_

Keith didn’t know. He needed a direction to move in, he had to keep _moving_ before he made impact, before he collapsed.

 _Shiro. Where did you go? Shiro, Shiro,_ Shiro _,_ **Shiro _-_**

Clarity slammed back into him suddenly. He turned sharply on his heel, pulling away from Lance’s grip and storming out.

“Hey, Keith- Where are you going!?” Lance called out behind him.

Keith didn’t bother looking back. He kept his stride fast-paced as he called out, voice stony.

“To find him.”

He left the Black Lion and made his way towards the Control Room, ignoring Lance calling after him in a choked voice to _please, just wait, hang on a second_.

Keith couldn’t afford to waste any more time. He had work to do. He’d found Shiro before, and he could find him again.

Keith would fix this.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah that was that.... this writing is at least a year old and I'm mostly just posting this because I'm curious if there's any interest in me continuing it in the future? It's all planned out and there's quite a few chunks already written from later chapters, so if anyone wants to see more than I'm happy to write it...  
> Let me know! 
> 
> Come yell at me about Voltron on tumblr, I'm [@lionswaps.](%E2%80%9Dlionswaps.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


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